Could I Be Good Enough?
by Breathe From Your Hoo Hoo
Summary: Roger thinks he's not worthy to be with Mark. MR slash.
1. A Cup Of Tea

This fic is loosely based on the song "Good Enough" by Darren Hayes. Featuring my favourite RENT couple. -giggles-

* * *

"Hey Mark? Could I…uh, get you anything, while you're working?" asked Roger tentatively as he sat near his favourite spot on the window sill.

"Could I have a cup of tea please, babe?" said Mark, not looking up from his mess of film reels in front of him and he sat on the loft floor and worked on his latest home-made documentary.

Roger walked to the kitchen and tried to make the best possible tea he could, even though he had absolutely no clue how to make the damn stuff. It had been nearly a whole month since he had confessed his love to the goggle-eyed filmmaker in the late night. As he waited for the kettle to boil, he thought about how nervous he was when he got up the courage to do so. Although he wasn't anymore after Mark responded correctly and the two of them made love for the first time in Mark's bed. But he was wrong. He was nervous right now just over making a cup of tea. Sure it was a small task, but Roger wanted to prove to Mark that he could do things correctly. He fumbled with the milk and sugar, hoping to God it was perfect. Because his Marky deserved the perfect cup of tea.

_If I woke up late  
couldn't get out of bed  
if I bought you a café latte instead_

After stirring it again for the 20th time, he picked up the chipped cup and saucer and balanced it carefully on his palm as he carried it over to Mark, who mumbled a quiet "Thanks" without looking up as he took the cup and placed it on the floor next to his leg. He then turned around and sat nervously on the couch, guitar in his lap.

_Could I be good enough  
Could I be good enough  
If the going got worse and the worse got rough  
The days became endless and harder than tough_

Mark suddenly jolted him out of his thoughts when he took a small sip of his tea and said, "Rog, I think you've put a little too much milk in this," he said with a slightly apprehensive tone.

Roger cringed internally. "I'm sorry, Marky. I'll remember next time," he replied in a small voice, his eyes fixed on the cup.

Mark's face relaxed into a gentle grin, and he said "Hey it's okay Roger. Thanks anyway," getting up to give Roger a quick but gentle kiss, which Roger happily returned. The two of them gently held each other as they kissed softly, but Roger's mind was far from romance. _How could I fuck up a simple cup of tea? How could I? _he thought to himself. That was a very poor attempt. He was gonna have to try harder for his special filmmaker. His Mark.

* * *

Here's a quick teaser. Reviews are like chocolate, I can never get enough. –wink- 


	2. Too Rough

They sat there in each other's arms for a few more minutes, when Mark got up from the couch, saying "Hey, I'm just gonna finish this work up quickly before the whole gang get here, ok?"

Roger nodded. "Ok fine," he replied with a small smile. Mark smiled back, kissed him on the cheek, and returned to his camera and projector on the loft floor. Roger took the cup back to the kitchen, his hand trembling a little. _I better remember not to fuck up next time_, he thought to himself. He was gonna have to try harder.

* * *

That night, Angel, Collins, Maureen, Joanne and Mimi were all present in the loft with the Boho boys. Angel and Collins sat together on the couch, Maureen and Joanne on the beanbag, Mimi in the single armchair and Mark and Roger huddled together on the floor. The boys were drinking Stoli and discussing some of their favourite films.

"I really like the way Bertolucci captures the essence of the bohemian, peasant lifestyle in _Accattone_. " Collins was saying. "And I like how he does it without being very neo-realistic, saying that it's because of structural constraints that these people are anarchic and non-conforming."

"Well, not quite," replied Mark as he sipped some Stoli. "Maybe he meant it that way, but the movie actually turned out to be very neo-realistic, saying that these people are bohemians because of human nature, not because of any structural boundaries."

"Well no, the structural boundaries are the actual government and society telling them what they should be and so they're rebelling against that," Collins disagreed.

Mark shook his head. "Only because you're an anarchist," he countered.

Collins chuckled. "Yeah, that's right," he said. Mark nodded and giggled as well. He looked over to Maureen, Joanne, Mimi and Angel, who were having their own private girly moment in the corner. Roger, trying to be part of the discussion, cleared his throat nervously and asked:

"So……um, what's neo-realism?"

Mark slipped an arm around his lover's shoulders. "Well, neo-realism comes from realism, which says that mankind isn't really benevolent and kind but self centered, and that the international system is anarchic, in the sense that there is no authority above states capable of regulating their interactions. Now, neo-realism says pretty much the same thing but neo-realism predominantly focuses on the _international system_ rather than human nature, where the international system acts as a _structure_ acting on the state and individuals below the level of the state acting as _agency_ on the state as a whole."

Roger couldn't quite follow such a complex theory, but he merelynodded and said, "Oh ok, I get it now. Thanks babe."

Mark shook his head and smiled at him. "You know, you've seen quite a few Bertolucci films with me. I thought you would have picked up on them by now."

"Well forgive me for not being a filmmaker like you and getting all this abstract stuff," said Roger defensively.

"It's not abstract, Rog. It's purely socio-political, which means social and-"

"I _know_ what that means!" Roger suddenly barked. The whole gang suddenly turned to look at him. "Umm sorry, guys," he apologized, blushing, to everyone's surprise.

"Oh that's okay Roger. Besides, it's time for us to go. It's quite late," said Joanne. So they all got up, said their goodbye to Mark and Roger, and left the loft. Roger got up silently and started clearing up the empty bottles and plastic cups.

"Why did you suddenly yell like that, Roger?" asked Mark as he wiped the coffee table with a tissue. "I was only asking a question."

"Yeah, I know that. I just didn't like how you were explaining every single thing to me. Like I was stupid or something" replied Roger, his voice trembling a little. _C'mon, please tell me I'm not stupid, Mark. Please. I really need to hear it_, he begged to himself, disposing the cups and bottles into the trash.

But to his disappointment, all Mark said was, "Well I'm sorry, baby. I guess it's not your fault if you're not into film and politics."

Roger sighed heavily as he sat himself on at the table. At first, he felt he wasn't good enough for Mark. Now he felt he wasn't _smart_ enough. Well, what the fuck do you expect from a rebellious, high school dropout, wannabe-rock star? He just didn't care enough in school to want to learn about film and art and all that brainy shit. He was Roger Davis, with his ripped jeans, leather jacket and guitar. Film wasn't really his thing. But now that he was in love with Mark, he just had to _make_ film his thing.

* * *

They made love though, later that night. Roger rolled condoms onto his and Mark's organs, and pushed himself deep into his lover's body; who was lying on his back in his bed – _their_ bed – and moaning Roger's name hungrily. Roger thrust himself harder and harder every time Mark whispered, "Oh Roger. Oh my _god_…..Oh. I want you….baby. _More._ Ooooohhhhh……" Finally, Roger yelled out Mark's name as he came into the sheath, and Mark followed a few seconds later upon screaming Roger's name. the two collapsed into each other's arms, panting but smiling at each other. Mark whispered:

"You were amazing, baby. A little too rough there, but still amazing," as he kissed Roger's nose.

Roger cringed internally again, but put on a smile for Mark's sake. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I'll be careful next time."

Mark smiled at him. "And also, you didn't wait long enough for me to adjust to you, Rog. You should have given a few more seconds."

Roger sighed. "Ok Marky, I'm really sorry. I'll never do it again," he whimpered, holding Mark close to him.

Mark held onto him and kissed him deeply. "Oh it's okay, Roggy. I love you," he whispered.

"I love you so much," the rockstar whispered back as he kissed his Jewish lover back. The two of them fell asleep in each other's arms, but for Roger, it was anything but a peaceful sleep.

* * *

The next morning, Mark discovered he had run out of film. So after making sure that Roger had enough AZT and that there was a little bit of food in the kitchen to last them some time, Marl salvaged whatever money he could find. After yelling, "Baby, I'm gonna go buy some film. Be back soon!" to Roger, he stuffed the $7 into his pocket, wrapped his scarf around his neck and walked to the store. He stood in the aisles, looking for the cheapest film he could find. After staring at the shelf for about 15 minutes, he heard a warm voice behind him say:

"Wow! So many films reels, so many to choose from." Mark turned around and came face to face which, well, a young, muscular man, about 23, with spiky brown hair, light hazel eyes and just the right amount of stubble on his chin. "Hi there," he said.

Mark blinked. "Oh, um….hi," he whispered. _Man, he is gorgeous_, Mark thought to himself.

The man smiled at him, revealing a very cute dimple in his right cheek. "I'm Christian," he said, sticking his hand out.

Mark smiled back, shook his hand and mumbled, "I'm Mark. Mark Cohen."

Christian smiled and nodded to his camera. "So, you film?"

Mark nodded shyly, blushing a little. "Um yeah….it's like, a hobby. I, uh…..yeah," he stammered, not making any sense. _Wow, what a cute smile - No NO! Stop it! You have Roger!_ one side of his brain screamed.

Christian continued, oblivious to the stammering, "I really love Kurosawa's and Bertolucci's films. I like how some of them actually share the same techniques and how they capture the peasant lifestyle."

"Really? I love them too!" blurted Mark. _Well, this guy is really smart. He knows about film_, said the other side of his brain. Mark smiled and continued his conversation with Christian about film and liberalism, temporarily forgetting Roger for the moment……

* * *

Hhhmmmmmmm, wonder what happens now…… _-giggles-_


	3. I Hope I Can

After Mark left the loft that morning, Roger sat and pondered quietly for a minute. Mark had criticized his lovemaking last night. Mark _never_ criticizes his lovemaking. But he did last night. And that scared Roger. Shaking his head, he got dressed in his most decent clothes and left the loft. He just acquired a job bartending and so had to leave for his morning shift. But he could hardly concentrate. All he could hear was, 'Roger, that was too hard. Too rough. Roger, you were too fast.' And coming from Mark, it was enough to make him lose his concentration.

"Hey! Watch it, will ya?" yelled an angry customer at Roger, who accidentally spilt some beer over his shirt and the bar table.

"Oh um, sorry. I'll uh, I'll just clean that up," stammered Roger as he got a cloth and hastily wiped the table clean with a rag. Blushing furiously, he scooted back behind the table to pour out some more drinks.

"Hey Roger, you ok man?" asked Jeff, the bar owner, concernedly.

Roger plastered a smile on his face. "Yeah yeah, I'm fine Jeff. Thanks" he said as he wiped some glasses.

"Hey, if the crowd continues to lag, you can leave in another half an hour," said Jeff.

Roger sighed. "Sounds great. Thanks Jeff," he mumbled. He was eager to get away from the angry guy who was glaring at him for spilling beer.

After half an hour dragged by, Roger dumped his apron, grabbed his leather jacket and headed home. _Phew, that was tiring_, he thought. _I just wanna get home and spend time with my Marky_. He smiled as he thought about Mark again. He felt so proud of himself for getting a job and helping Mark with the finances, however meagre they were. At least now, they could afford milk for cereal from time to time.

* * *

Roger slid open the loft door and was just about to enter when he heard laughter come from inside. He stopped to listen. Maybe Collins dropped by.

"Oh, and you won't believe how many times my mom calls me! Try, 50 times a day!" said a voice that sounded like Mark. Roger laughed quietly.

"Oh that's nothing! Mine calls me 50 times an _hour!_ Beat **that!**" said another voice that Roger couldn't place. _Okay, so it wasn't Collins_.Hecrinkled his forehead. Gingerly stepping in,he suddenly felt his hair standing up onhis neckwhen he saw Mark sitting at the window sill with some half-shaven, muscular, brunette guy sitting across from him. Who was he?

Mark suddenly noticed his presence and said, "Oh hey baby! I missed you! How was work?" as he jumped off to give his boyfriend a warm hug and kiss. Roger smiled and returned the kiss. Mark suddenly broke away and said:

"Oh hey Christian, this is my boyfriend Roger. Roger, this is Christian Owens. I met him at the store this morning. He's a screenwriter" as he gestured to the stranger sitting near the window.

"Well, still struggling, actually. I'm yet to have one of my scripts actually noticed by someone," he said,chuckling slightly, as he got up to greet Roger. "Hi, nice to meet you."

Roger shook his hand back, smiling tensely. "Hi. You too." He frowned internally. _Since when does Mark bring total strangers into the loft? _he thought.

"Christian and I were just talking about our moms," explained Mark as he hugged Roger close.

"Is that all?" asked Roger, ever so snidely.

Mark giggled. "Yeah, and we were talking about films too. Christian thinks that if he writes a screenplay and I film it with some amateur actors, he might have a better chance of getting noticed."

Roger looked at Christian, who went back to the window sill, but kept looking at the both of them from the corner of his eye. "More than him, I think it'll give _you_ a better chance at being noticed" he whispered, stroking Mark's hair.

The Jewish boy grinned with embarrassment. "Yeah well, that would be nice. But I don't wanna sell out or anything, you know?" he said shyly.

Roger smiled fondly at his Bohemian lover. "No you won't. As long as you get discovered by someone more human than Alexi Darling, you'll be just fine," he whispered, kissing his forehead.

Mark smiled back dreamily at him. _Now these are the moments I live for_, thought Roger. He leaned in for a longer kiss, when Mark pulled away saying, "Umm baby? I think we've forgotten about our guest."

Roger turned to look at Christian, whose face was blushing pink with embarrassment, but his eyes reflected something else. Almost as if he knew something they didn't. _Who the fuck does he think he is?_ Roger's brain said. _He has some nerve looking at me like that_. Roger glared internally, but plastered a fake smile for Mark's sake.

'So uh, you guys want some chips?" asked Roger as he pulled away from Mark and walked into the kitchen.

"Thanks, babe. That'd be great," quipped Mark. Roger filled a bowl with broken onion-flavoured potato chips and brought them over to his boyfriend and Christian, who were now sitting on the loft floor and looking through the Mark's film reels, while giggling like schoolgirls. Roger placed the bowl on the floor next to Christian, who plunged his hand into it without even so much as an acknowledgement. Roger frowned for real this time.

While the two film lovers were having a jolly time looking at some amateur home-made films on the ancient projector, a very angry but scared rock-star sat by the window sill playing _Musetta's Waltz_, cringing every time he saw _his_ lover laugh at a joke made by this smart-assed stranger in their home.

_He is kinda good looking_, worried Roger, who began to have a sick feeling in the bottom of his gut. _I hope I can trust Mark. I really do._


	4. What Have I Done?

Mark didn't seem to notice the sudden change in Roger over the next couple of weeks. He was too busy going out with Christian all the time. Christian seemed to have a real liking for foreign films, art films and writing scripts. That morning, he got ready to go to the park to film.

"All by yourself?" asked Roger, knowing and dreading what his answer was going to be.

"Well no, Christian's gonna be meeting me there," said Mark hesitantly as he wrapped his scarf around his neck. "He's gonna show me some new filming techniques."

_I'm sure he's teaching him more than that_, thought Roger bitterly. But he didn't say a word. He watched helplessly as Mark kissed him goodbye and scooted out the door with his camera in hand. Once the loft door shut, Roger picked up the phone and dialled.

"Hello?" said the tired voice on the other end.

"Hey Collins," greeted Roger over the phone. "Doing anything today?" _I may as well hang out without someone who wants me there_, he thought to himself.

* * *

"Why are you so worried, Roger? You know Mark's not like that," said Collins as he sipped at his cold coffee. 

"Yeah I know but…..I just can't shake this uneasy feeling that I'm getting. Like something bad is gonna happen."

Collins looked at his best friend. "Look, you have nothing to worry about, Rog. Mark loves you a lot. It's not in him to wander."

Roger sighed. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I'm sure he likes talking to someone who actually knows about films."

"Yeah. Do you still remember what neo-realism is?" asked Collins.

"Actually no, I've forgotten everything Mark said," answered Roger and the two of them shared a good natured chuckle. _Perhaps I should just be happy that he has a friend,_ he reasoned.

After two hours spent at Collins' house, Roger decided to drop by at the Life Café to try and salvage some food for the two of them.

"Try not to get something that you can't identify!" yelled the professor as Roger made his way out.

"I won't!" laughed Roger as he waved to his friend. "Seeya!"

* * *

Meanwhile, Mark and Christian were at the Life Café, sipping hot tea after a whole morning of filming. 

"So, how'd you like the bird's eye view?" asked Christian, drumming his hands on the table.

Mark smiled. "Oh, it was so amazing! It's like seeing a whole city in one frame," he said as he sipped his tea. "It's definitely a sight for sore eyes."

"I know an even better sight for sore eyes," murmured Christian as he held his gaze with Mark's. The filmmaker couldn't seem to break away from Christian's hypnotic gaze, yet somehow he didn't even want to.

"And what's that?" asked Mark, a small smile playing on his lips.

Christian moved closer and matched his smile. "Take a guess, Marky-boy."

Mark continued to gaze at him. Even though that nickname was used by Roger and Roger only, he continued to grin. _I must be outta my mind_, thought the Jew. _But he's so smart, so film savvy. And so cute too._ His cheeks blushed into a furious pink as Christian moved across the table and pressed his lips against Mark's. Mark froze for a split-second, then slowly relaxed and gave in to the feeling. He could practically hear the two sides of his brain brawling with each other, but all he could think about was Christian.

But unfortunately, that was the exact moment that Roger chose to walk into the Life. His heart shattered into a million pieces when he saw _his_ lover and this stranger locking lips in front of him. Christian was the first to notice him, and broke the kiss immediately. Mark turned to follow his gaze, and was shocked to see his boyfriend there. He chewed his trembling lip and spoke:

"Roger, look I'm-"

Roger glared at the two of them, and turned and fled out the door in a heartbeat. Mark ran out onto the road, calling "ROGER! WAIT!" but got no answer as he watched his lover run down the street. He dropped to his knees on the snow and sobbed quietly.

"What have I done?" he whispered to himself.

* * *

DA DA DA DUM! DA DA DA DUM! What happens now? 


	5. Choose

Hey guys, sorry been busy for a while. Ya'll must have forgotten me, right? _–blushes-_ Anyway, on with the show.

Hey guess what? Darren Hayes, my most favourite singer ever (ex-singer from Savage Garden) got married to his boyfriend of 2 years, Richard, in London last month and I am so ECSTATIC for them! For more info, go to www . darrenhayes . com . (Without the spaces) **Congratulations guys!**

* * *

"Umm, are you okay?" a tentative voice asked.

Mark raised his tear-stained face and looked up to see Christian's face looking at him. _Do I look fucking okay to you?_ he thought angrily. But he just said:

"Yeah yeah, I'm fine." He then hoisted himself up off the ground.

"Look, I'm really sorry about……you see, I didn't mean to.…you know. Oh God, what the fuck was I _thinking?_ I am so sorry, Mark," he said hastily.

Anyone who was listening would have noticed the fakeness of the apology, but Mark was not too interested to pay any attention to him. "Yeah sure, whatever. Look, I gotta get home to Roger. I'll call you," he said brusquely, as he wiped his tears, straightened his clothes and ran home to the loft.

* * *

Roger sat in his favourite spot near the window sill, crying softly into his hands as he stared out his window. He looked out at the busy, cold city of New York, thinking about how lucky he felt that he found someone to love in Mark and how it all just fell apart in one single moment. _How could Mark do something like that to me?_ he thought. If anything, Roger always thought _he_ would be the one most likely to cheat, considering how his rock-star persona turned the heads of both guys and girls. Just then the loft door slid open, and in walked a very scared but guilty Mark. He slowly placed his camera and scarf on the table, cleared his throat and began:

"Roger, it's not what you think. It was just-"

But Roger cut him off. He wiped his tears hastily, and spoke in a deep, menacing voice without looking at Mark. "I _tried_ to be fair with you, Mark. I knew you liked Christian a lot because he's into films like you. But still, I trusted you. Even though it scared me, I trusted that you would not do anything to hurt me. And now, you have," he growled, his voice shaking.

Mark bit his lip and more tears tumbled out of his baby blue eyes. He took a few hesitant steps towards Roger. "I know you did, Roger. And I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to happen, I swear. I am so sorry, Roger. Really I am," he said as he slowly reached out his hand to squeeze the rock star's shoulder, but Roger shook him off and spun around to face him with his angry but hurt eyes.

"Do you know how that made me feel, Mark? Huh? Do you have any idea what I've been going through these past few weeks because of that pretty boy?" demanded Roger as rivers of hot tears rolled down his cheeks. He stood up to face Mark better.

The filmmaker backed away a few steps, also crying and unable to say anything. Roger continued, "You've been spending more time with Christian than you ever have with me. Just because he's smart and knows so much about film, you run out with him every single day. Every time I set eyes upon you, you're always laughing and joking and enjoying yourselves. How am I supposed to compete with that, Mark? What the _fuck_ do you want me to do?" He fell onto the floor, crying into his hands.

Mark bent down and ruffled his hurt lover's hair gently, kissed his forehead and said through his tears, "Is that what this is about, Roger? You think I like Christian more than I do you?" He swallowed the lump in his throat. "How can you say that? You have _no_ reason to feel that way, baby. You're the only one whom my heart belongs to. Please remember that." Roger slowly lifted his tear-stained face to look at his filmmaker.

"Mark, do you love me?" he asked after an eternity of silence.

Mark looked shocked and hurt at the question. "Of _course_ I love you, Roggy. More than anything!" he mumbled as fresh tears spilled out of his eyes.

The rock star wiped his face with the back of his hand. "Do you love Christian?" he asked, a bitter edge creeping into his voice.

Mark froze for a moment, staring at his lover's expectant eyes as he thought about the question. "No I don't. I mean…..well, he is nice…and smart, but I don't love him. I could **never** love him! Roger, please don't make this any more painful. _Please_," he begged, subconsciously doubting his own words.

Roger took in a deep breath, and whispered, "You're gonna have to choose between us, Marky. You can't have both of us in your life because it's not gonna work." He got up, picked up his guitar and went to the unoccupied bedroom.

The Jew stared at Roger, his breath caught in his throat. "Please don't do this, Roger. I'm so sorry, really I am. I _swear_ I'll never do it again," he sobbed.

Roger stopped in the doorway, guitar in hand and his head turned to the side. "I'll wait till tomorrow morning for your answer," he said curtly as he walked into the room and slammed the door behind him.

Mark slumped down on the couch, arms crossed firmly across his chest. _What am I going to do?_ He thought to himself.

* * *

Ssooooooooooo, what's Marky gonna do? 


	6. He's Wrong

Hey guys, it's me. Sorry for the long wait. Lotsa stuff happening in my life. But hey, I've started a playwriting course and I've just started writing my first play ever! Let me know if ya wanna read it ok? I can put it up for you, somewhere……

* * *

It was a long, difficult night for Mark and Roger. Difficult for Mark because he'd been hurting the love of his life without even knowing it, and difficult for Roger because he had to compete with someone who made him feel so insecure. Both boys tossed and turned in their beds, Roger in the other room and Mark in _their_ room, as they tried to understand what just happened between them.

_I think I know what I gotta do_, thought Mark to himself as he glanced over at the antique digital clock, which had the time **_3:46 AM_** glaring back at him. He reached over to the side of the bed and touched the spot where Roger should have been, sighed, and drifted off into a cold, uneasy sleep.

* * *

_KNOCK KNOCK!_

The Jew and the rock star sat silently in the loft, the former just sitting quietly on the couch and the latter at the kitchen table reading the latest _Village Voice_, both sipping cheap coffee from their chipped mugs. But the silence between them was thick enough to cut with a meat cleaver. Mark looked over at his lover with tears forming in his eyes, opening his mouth to say something but realised he had nothing to say. Just then, the door knocked.

As if on cue, Roger's head suddenly snapped up. He looked at the door for a few seconds, then looked at Mark, his olive-green eyes filled with anticipation, hurt and insecurity. Mark took in a deep breath, then got up to open the door. And sure enough, there stood Christian, in a red skin-tight sweatshirt, blue jeans and a red baseball cap to match. He carried a basket of what looked like croissants and a flask of coffee in his arms.

"Hey there, stranger," he said, flashing his Cheshire Cat smile which made Mark's knees wobble and Roger's heart sink. "I though we could use a little picnic this time. Central Park looks real inviting this morning, doesn't it?" He dangled the basket in front his face to emphasise his point.

_**Fuck** he looks good_, thought Mark, but he kept his composure. "Look Christian, um….this was really very nice of you but, I'm sorry. I can't keep hanging out with you like this anymore. It's upsetting….um," He turned around to glance at Roger, who quickly buried his head back behind the _Village Voice_, then turned back to Christian. "I haven't been spending enough time with my boyfriend because I keep going out with you every morning and I really wanted to do something with _him_ today. Do you think we could….you know….keep our outings to say, twice a week?" He gulped, trying his best to interpret Christian's expression. "Besides I like to work alone anyways," Mark added quickly.

The screenwriter stole a quick look at Roger, who glared back at him behind Mark's back, then sighed. "Alright Mark, if that's what you really want. I'm sorry if I got in the way between you two."

Mark heaved a huge sigh of relief. "Oh thank you so much Christian! It really means a lot to me. So, how about we go filming the day after tomorrow? Is that okay?"

Christian smiled back curtly. "No problem. Sounds good to me." He picked up the basket and the flask from the floor. "Well, see you then Mark."

"Yep, seeya!" said Mark, smiling. "And thanks for the picnic!" He waved at the screenwriter as he walked down the hall. Christian waved back and was soon gone.

Mark shut the sliding door and let out a huge breath that he didn't even realise he was holding. He turned around to look at Roger, who this time dumped the _Village Voice_ on the coffee table, threw his arms around Mark and held him close.

"Thank you so much, baby," whispered Roger into Mark's ear as he hugged him tightly. "I love you, I love you. _God_, how I love you."

The scrawny Jew smiled and wrapped his arms tightly around his lover. "I love you too, Rog. I'm so sorry I hurt you. You're the only one my heart belongs to." He pulled away to look at Roger, tears staining both their cheeks, and kissed his rough, chapped lips with warmth and passion. The rock star returned the kiss in full force , carressing their tongues together , as the two of them held each other even tighter. Finally, they pulled away and smiled at each other. Roger took Mark's hand and guided them to their bedroom, where they made up for lost time. Roger undressed both of them in minutes and covered his organ with a condom, which he penetrated deep into Mark's body.

"You are _so_ amazing," whispered Mark lustfully as he screamed Roger's name in sheer ecstasy. Roger smiled to himself. _I have my lover back_, he thought inside his head. _Nothing could possibly go wrong._

* * *

_later that day….._

"I'll be back after two hours, Marky!" yelled Roger as he made his way down to the bar to cover for some guy who hurt his ankle and couldn't make it to work. He worked in a much better frame of mind this time, pouring drinks and cleaning tables, when he heard a voice he absolutely dreaded.

"Why, hello again Roger", Roger heard the newest patron say to him.

"Hello, _Christian_" greeted Roger, practically spitting out the name. "Here for a drink? You may as well, I suppose, considering you couldn't get the 'other thing' that you wanted".

"Ha ha ha, very funny," said Christian huffily. "I'll have a Scotch with two rocks, thank you."

Roger filled a round glass with the drink, shoved it on a coaster in front of Christian and scowled at him. The struggling screenwriter picked it up, delicately sipped from it, and said, "You know, Mark's a very sophisticated guy. Did you know that? Despite his lifestyle and his living conditions, he has some really good taste. Kinda makes you wonder what the hell he's doing in a place like this, huh?" He sneered at Roger.

"What the _fuck_ is that supposed to mean?" growled the rock star as he chopped the lemons into wedges for cocktail drinks. "Mark loves this place, he loves his life, he loves **_me_**, and you are _nobody_ to say otherwise."

"Sure, Roger. You just keep telling yourself that," sneered Christian as he finished his drink and got up from his seat. He placed a few dollar bills on the bar table, winked at Roger and skipped out of the bar.

Roger glared daggers at his arch-rival, gripping the lemon knife so tightly it turned his knuckles white. "He's wrong. I _know_ he's wrong," he muttered under his breath, but deep down, he couldn't help but doubt his own words…….


	7. Seduction

Hey guys! Sorry about the wait. Internet connection at home was dead for the past 5 days.

It had been a couple of weeks since Mark's and Christian's new arrangement. The pair saw each other only twice every week to film stuff in Central park, and this put Roger more at ease. Today was a particularly happy day for him as he and Mark went down to the playground to spend the day. Even though Roger was a little heavy for the see-saw and Mark wasn't nimble enough for the flying fox, it didn't matter because the two lovebirds just wanted to have a bit of fun by themselves.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!" screamed Mark as he clung on for dear life to the handlebar of the flying fox, which glided from one end to the other. Roger laughed uproariously at his boyfriend as he quickly ran to receive him on the other end.

"No no no, Marky. You're supposed to clutch the handle tightly with _both_ hands and keep your body weight constant while you glide," he explained while helping a trembling Mark get off the flying fox and onto solid ground.

The filmmaker glared at him. "What the fuck are you laughing at? I was _terrified_ out there!"

"Yeah, I could see your face go white with fear," said Roger with a lopsided grin. "If it could even get any whiter, that is," he finished, bursting into another fit of giggles.

"Hey, I'll have you know I was never good at those horrible things anyway. I always kept falling off them at school. I even bruised my leg once!" the Jew said, pouting.

"AAaawwww, poor baby," purred Roger. He slid his hand between Mark's legs. "Let me make it _all_ better for you," he whispered with a cheeky grin.

"No, Roger! Not here! There are kids watching!" hissed Mark, unable to hide the blush on his face.

The rock-star chuckled. "Fine, then let them." He grabbed Mark by the collar and pinned him onto the ground, giggling. Mark tried to pry Roger off his form by tickling him. Roger responded by tickling him back. Mark laughed and tickled him again, until it exploded into an all-out tickle war. They continued their fun until they both lay on their backs on the ground, panting heavily. Mark turned to Roger and said:

"Woohooo! That was fun!" with a wide grin on his face.

Roger grinned back. "Yeah, it sure was." He leaned over and captured Mark's lips in a deep kiss. Mark smiled back as he returned the kiss. But they both had to break away when a woman in her mid-thirties cleared her throat and shook her head disapprovingly at them, with a little girl in tow. Roger grinned wickedly at her.

"Oh c'mon lady. You _know_ you love the show," he remarked with a wink. The woman huffed angrily, picked up the child, and scurried off. Mark shook his head at the cheeky rocker.

"Oh dear me, what do I do with you, Roger?"

Roger grinned at him. "Well, you could do this," he said as he crashed his lips into the crook of Mark's neck. Mark moaned loudly, his eyes rolling back into his head as he gave in. Roger grinned internally. _Of course. My Mark can never resist me_, he thought to himself.

That night, Roger was out working at the bar while Mark was at home editing some more film of children playing at the playground. He was just enjoying some quiet time to himself when he heard a knock on the door. He lifted himself off the floor, slid the door open and nearly had a heart attack.

"Wh-wh-what…..what are you…..what are you doing here, Christian?" he stuttered, clutching the door tightly enough to turn his knuckles white.

"I came to see you, Marky," said Christian breathily as he let himself into the loft. "I can't stand this new arrangement of ours anymore. I miss you so much." He took off his heavy blue jacket and threw it on the floor, revealing a tight black tank top.

Mark stumbled backwards onto the couch, trying to hide the bulge between his legs. "No Christian, please. Roger's gonna be back soon. He's just gone to work. Please go home," he begged. _Oh God, why does he have to look so fucking sexy?_, thought Mark.

Christian ignored his pleas and moved closer, his chest and arms rippling with every move. "No Mark, please don't send me away. I've wanted you for so long. Please," he whispered, slipping his arm around Mark's waist. "Don't deny me this." And with that, he crashed his lips into Mark's.

Mark tried to push him away but was unsuccessful, either because Christian was stronger than him or because he secretly wanted this. Mark blushed furiously and his whole body went limp as the screenwriter plunged his tongue into his mouth and pulled their bodies closer together. Christian slowly pulled away, grinning triumphantly.

"Why don't we take this somewhere more comfy?" he purred. The Jewish boy whimpered helplessly, so Christian carried him into the bedroom – which was usually occupied by Mark and Roger – laid him on the bed; then he removed their clothes, got under the covers and started touching Mark intimately.

Mark moaned loudly, his heart thudding wildly in his chest, while Christian took his whole length in his mouth and sucked him off. _No no, NO, this is not happening to me_, the two sides of his brain argued_. I'm only dreaming - But he does have such nice lips and a nice tongue and – STOP IT! This is WRONG! But he's so good – just tell him to stop now, Mark! Just fuckin' say something!_

"Uhhh, Roger? Rog?" whispered the filmmaker, his lips trembling.

"SSSsshh Mark, it's okay. Christian's here," whispered the conniving screenwriter, placing his finger on Mark's lips to silence him. He then bent down and kissed Mark's lips, then went back down to suck his hard organ. Mark moaned a little louder this time, so loud that he didn't hear the loft door slide open and heavy boots slowly making their way into the bedroom……


	8. Betrayal

Good morrow, fellow Renthead and Rappheads. Please be warned that since I have my period, I feel very squishy and dirty and henceforth may produce some very alarming results. But please don't take it personally. I promise I won't do anything _too_ drastic.

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Roger came home that night after a hard evening's work, a little happier this time since it was his payday. Stuffing the money deep into his pocket, he bounced up the stairs to his building. His rough, callused hands gripped the bottle of chocolate mousse carefully. He had decided to spoil his Marky that night with a yummy, chocolaty treat that he could only afford when he got paid, since Mark's money went towards the rent and bills. He carefully slid the loft door open, yelled "Mark! I'm home!" and waited for a reply. But he got none. He crinkled his forehead. _That's funny_, he thought. _Mark usually replies when I call out to him._ He searched the entire room until his eyes fell on an unfamiliar blue jacket lying on the floor. He picked it up and looked at it.

"Ok this is not mine, and it's certainly not Mark's," he mumbled to himself. Suddenly, he heard a muffled voice from their bedroom go _"It's okay, Mark. Christian's here." _

Roger froze, his eyes as wide as basketballs and his heart thudding in his throat. _Christian? This is Christian's jacket?_, he thought to himself.

Just then, the bedroom door swung open and out walked Christian, wearing nothing but tight, green briefs. "Oh hello Roger, Mark and I were just having a little _slumber party_," he said, sneering.

Roger's mouth opened wide like a goldfish as he struggled to find words. "What. The. Fuck. Are. You. DOING HERE?" he yelled.

Before Christian could answer, Roger shoved him aside and stormed into the bedroom where he found Mark lying naked on the bed, his clothes strewn all over the floor, his eyes blinking in Roger's direction. Roger gasped.

"Mark? Mark, what's going on?" the rock star whimpered. "Please tell me you didn't do anything with him. _Please_."

Mark hoisted himself up onto his elbows. "No, look Roger. We didn't do anything. Christian was just…….sucking me off."

Roger grabbed Mark by the shoulders, his breath rasping heavily. "Tell me, Mark. Tell me exactly what happened."

Mark trembled under his boyfriend's grip. "I was just busy editing my film when Christian suddenly walked into the loft. He said that he was attracted to me and that he wanted me. I tried to tell him no, but he wouldn't listen. He just took me to the bed and started going down on me."

"Ok, so did you at least try to stop him after that?" asked Roger. Mark sat silently, his lip trembling.

"WELL, DID YOU?" the rock star yelled this time. "ANSWER ME, DAMMIT!" Mark just helplessly shook his head from side to side, as tears began to form in his eyes.

Roger flung him down on the bed, earning a small whimper from the Jew. With the first few tears forming in his eyes, he marched into the living room where Christian was all dressed and proceeding to leave the loft. The rock star spun him around and grabbed him by the shirt.

"Who the **fuck** do you think you are, seducing my boyfriend like that?" he bellowed. "Mark Cohen is all I have! He's the only fucking thing that keeps me going in this fucking shit-headed world! You have no fucking business stealing him away from me, you _asshole!"_ He threw Christian against the kitchen counter with all his might.

Christian struggled to get up. "I only did it because I thought he could do so much better than a pathetic, useless, ex-druggie washout like _you_," he spat. "I am so much better than you, Roger. You should be thanking me. I'm doing your precious little Marky a favour, you little shit!" He glared at Roger.

Roger snapped. He grabbed Christian by the shirt again, punched him across the face and then flung him into the coffee table, which sent the chocolate mousse bottle flying across the floor and shattering into a million pieces. He walked over and picked up Christian again, who now had a few cuts on his face, a bruise around his right eye and a river of blood running out of his lip.

"If I ever, ever, _ever_, have to set eyes on you again, I will rip you to shreds! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME, YOU FUCKWIT?" he growled. Christian nodded quietly, his eyes wide with fear.

"Good. Now get the **fuck** out of my house!" Roger flung the screenwriter in the direction of the door. He got up, grabbed his jacket, flung open the loft door and ran for his life. Roger collapsed onto the battered couch, his head in his hands.

A minute later, Mark emerged from the bedroom, dressed in his same clothes. "Roger?" he whispered, his face stained with tears. He approached the couch and knelt down beside his lover. "Roger? I am so sorry, baby. I didn't mean for it to happen. Please-"

"But you _let_ it happen, didn't you?" Roger demanded, cutting him off. "Why, Mark? Why do you keep doing this to me? Am I not good enough for you?"

"No!" Mark cried as he tried to grab Roger's arm, but Roger pulled away from him and started pacing up and down the 'living room'. "Honestly, I didn't mean it at all! I love you Roger!" He wiped away the fresh tears than started running down his face.

Roger spun around to face him, his cheeks also fresh with tears. "You know something? I don't think I can believe that anymore. If you loved me, you wouldn't have dumped me to spend all your time with this stranger. If you loved me, you wouldn't criticize me for every little thing that I did wrong." His chest heaved with every breath he took. "And if you loved me, **_you wouldn't have done what you just did in there with somebody else!_**" he screamed the last sentence so loud, the whole of New York state could have heard him.

Mark broke down into sobs. He ran to Roger and threw his arms around his waist. "I do love you, Roger! You mean the world to me! I'm nothing without you! I love you, I love you, I love you, I fucking _love_ you! How many times do you want me to say it?"

"It doesn't matter," said Roger, who detangled himself from Mark's grasp and pushed him onto the couch. "Because I can't stay with someone who's just hurt me like this. I can't I just **can't**!" And with that, he slid open the loft door and ran like Superman. He bolted down the stairs and just ran and ran and ran down street, not even knowing where he was going.

Mark followed him down the stairs but lost sight of him once he got onto the street. _Oh God, what have I done? What the fuck have I done?_, he thought miserably. In that moment, there was nothing Mark could do. He screamed his lover's name **"ROGEEEEEERRRRR!"** into the cold, black night sky, collapsed onto the icy pavement, cried to himself until his eyelids drooped shut, and willed the ground to open up so that the fires of Hell could consume him. Because _that's_ what he deserved.


	9. Hurt

"Mark? Hey Mark, wake up man."

Mark blinked rapidly, getting used to the sudden burst of sunlight hitting his eyes, and tried to remember what the hell he was doing sleeping on the pavement.

"Hey Mark, you ok?" asked a concerned voice.

Mark pulled himself into a sitting position. "Uh, yeah, Collins. I'm fine," he mumbled. He touched his face and felt the dried-up tear stains there, which caused him to almost start crying again.

Collins knelt down beside him and said, "I was just swingin' by to bring you guys some food and I saw you lying on the ground. What's goin' on, man? Why isn't Roger here?"

Mark started telling him the events from last night, from being seduced by Christian, to Roger running away from the loft. Collins put an arm around him and held him close as the filmmaker cried fresh, new tears.

"I just thought he might be with you," sobbed Mark, wiping his face with his sleeve.

The professor sighed and shook his head. "No Mark, he didn't come anywhere near my house. I haven't seen him since he came to see me when you were out filming." Mark froze with fear and worry when he heard this.

"Then where the hell _is_ he? Oh my God, he's run away somewhere, I don't even know where! Maybe he's been mugged! Or maybe he's even been killed!" Collins wrapped an arm around his sobbing friend to calm him down.

"Hey hey hey there, Mark. Take it easy. I'm sure he just went somewhere to calm himself down. He'll be fine, trust me."

The Jew sniffled and adjusted his glasses. "But what's if he's not?"

The anarchist spoke like a father addressing his son. "C'mon now Mark, don't go thinkin' like that. You know what he's like. He gets angry, he goes away to cool himself off, then he comes back and apologizes. We've seen it from his withdrawal days." He looped his arm through Mark's and gently hoisted him up to his feet. "If we still don't see him by tomorrow morning then we'll tell the cops, alright? Because they're not gonna look for a person who's been missing for less than 24 hours. Now let's get you inside, it's _freezing_ out here." Mark reluctantly agreed and so the two of them walked back up to the loft. Collins made Mark a cup of hot tea and sat on the table across from him.

"How could I have done something like that, Tom? How could I hurt the person I love so much?" the filmmaker lamented as he sipped his tea.

Collins looked sympathetically at him. "well, I'll admit that what you did was pretty low, but I know you still love Rog-boy and he still loves you. You bitches can work this out. All you need is time. I'll be here to help you if you need it."

Mark looked at him from above his teacup and smiled sadly. "Thank you, Collins. What would we do without you?"

"Starving and getting high would be my guess," quipped the anarchist with a grin.

The Jew nodded. "Yeah, true, but we'd _still_ be starving anyway, wouldn't we?" said Mark cheekily. The two of them shared a quick giggle, while secretly hoping their friend was okay.

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Meanwhile, Roger found himself walking down some dark alley that he'd never even seen before. Or maybe he'd seen it during his rock-star days. Or maybe during his April days. He remembered how the two of them came down here to shoot up. He leaned his back against the wall and tried to catch his breath. He shivered and his body started to twitch violently from the cold, because he had forgotten to bring his jacket. He wished he had taken it with him, but he quickly pushed that thought out of his head.

_I am **not** going back there_, he thought to himself. _I can't set my foot back in that loft. Not after what I saw last night. Not after……_

He buried his face into his hands and cried softly as he recalled the events from last night. _His_ Mark, the one he loved more than anything in the world, had cheated on him and wounded him. All because of that stupid Christian. But then, maybe he should just let Christian have Mark, if it made Mark so happy, because he wanted his filmmaker to be happy. Just then, his thoughts were interrupted by a set of heavy footsteps.

"Well well _well_, what have we here? Long time no see, old friend," said the gruff voice that followed the heavy footsteps. Roger quickly wiped his face and turned to face his old dealer, The Man. He frowned.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he hissed.

The Man sneered and held up a fresh bag of smack. "You look like you could use a little escape from reality," he remarked.

Roger glared at him, and then glared at the bag. He _knew_ he shouldn't. He made a promise to Mark to never touch the vile stuff again. But he was hurt; wounded; betrayed. And he needed it. He _needed_ a hit. He needed something to help him numb his pain, because it was too much for him to bear. He dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out all the dollar bills he received on payday.

"Here, gimme as much as you can," he mumbled, shoving the money into his hand. The Man grinned wickedly, gave him several packets of smack and some needles, then turned on his heel and walked away. Roger quickly melted some of the powder, sucked it into the needle, then inserted it into his arm.

_I need this. I need to do this. Because I can't take the pain. I just can't. I can't bear the pain of love. It's killing me. I can't. I don't care what happens to me. I don't care. I hope I just die. I hope……_

And with these thoughts in his head, Roger slumped on to the icy ground and cried and cried until he had no more tears left…..

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MMMMmmmmm, wonder what happens to poor Roggy? _–snickers-_


	10. The Cold Shoulder

It had been nearly three weeks since Roger ran away from the loft. Even after distributing numerous flyers, making numerous phone calls and desperately pleading people on the streets, nobody could find any trace of the rock star. Even the local police threw in the towel and gave him up for dead. The Bohemians were at their wits' end trying to locate Roger's whereabouts. But not nearly as Mark, who was completely distraught with the knowledge that it was his own actions that led to his lover's disappearance. He was so drained with giving out flyers and desperately asking around that he sat all huddled up on the loft couch, his hands rapidly fiddling with his camera like he had Downs' Syndrome. His eyes were bloodshot from not sleeping enough, his skin ghastly and paler than usual from not eating and his face heavy with dried-up tear stains. He was indeed, a horrific sight.

A voice suddenly jolted his from his catatonic stupor. "Hey Mark! What're you doing wide awake? You're supposed to be sleeping!"

Mark suddenly shook his head and turned his attention towards the door. "Sorry Maureen, I just can't sleep. What if Roger walks in?"

Maureen sat next to him. "For God's sake, Pookie! How can you function without your sleep? I _told_ you Mimi and I were looking for him in all the clubs! C'mon, you need to rest!" she scolded him, and slapped him up the head.

Mark hung his head and said, "No Maureen. After what I did to him, I don't deserve a rest." Fresh tears spilled out of his eyes.

Maureen slid closer to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. "Awwww, don't say that, Marky-Poo. I know this is really hard on you, but you said that you'd relax today. So please? For my sake?" she pleaded him and gave him her legendary pout. "Ok fine, so you don't wanna sleep. Can you atleast step outside with me _without_ your camera? You could really use some fresh air."

Mark looked at her for a few seconds, and sighed. "Alright fine. Lemme just……uh, freshen up a bit." He said and got up form the couch.

* * *

Half an hour later, Mark was dressed and looking somewhat better than before and he and Maureen found themselves at the Life Café. Maureen ordered herself a black coffee and a tuna sandwich and Mark, who sat across from her, ordered some herbal tea and a garden salad. While they ate their food, Mark suddenly laid his eyes upon a familiar figure behind Maureen. Dropping his fork into his bowl, he got up from his seat, trance-like, walked over to the booth and said, "Hello Christian," in the coldest tone possible.

Christian turned his head around and smiled snidely at Mark. "Oh hello Marky. This is my boyfriend, Jack," he said, gesturing to the curly-haired man sitting in the booth across from him.

Mark bit his tongue and asked him, "You wouldn't happen to know where Roger was, would you?"

Christian pretended to think very hard. "You mean he's _not_ stuck to your ass? Well then, I would really have no idea where he might be. Sorry 'bout that. Bye!" And with that, he turned back around to face Jack.

Mark grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around, his cheeks reddening with anger. "So you had a boyfriend this whole time and _still_ tried to put the moves on me? I thought you said you were-"

"Actually no, I found him just after my failed attempt with you. And I said that only because I wanted to sleep with you, _darling_," said the screenwriter cockily. "I mean, you're really cute and all but let's face it; you're small fry. I have my sights set on much bigger things." He then fake-blew a kiss at Mark, and then turned his back on the filmmaker forever.

"Pookie? What's the matter?" asked a concerned Maureen after Mark shakily made his way back to his booth and sat down.

Mark cried softly and buried his face into his hands. "Nobody knows where Roger is. Oh God, what am I going to do?" Poor Maureen was helpless and couldn't do anything except sit beside him and soothingly rub his back to comfort him. And so that's exactly what she did.

* * *

AAHHAAAAAAAAAAA! Wondering where Roger is? Well, keep wondering! Oh, and good luck finding the little "Goodbye Love" reference hidden in there. _–winks-_


	11. It's So Cold, How Could He Survive?

"Mark? Mark?" Maureen gently shook the filmmaker as he cried softly into his hands. "C'mon Pookie, let's get outta here. You should be home resting, not near the vicinity of that asshole."

Mark raised his head and blinked at her. "Yes you're right, Mo. Let's go." He got up, pulled out $15 from his pocket and handed it to Maureen. He then took the cup with the remainder of Maureen's black coffee, walked across the café, and dumped the contents all over Christian's face and clothes. Maureen giggled, Jack looked stunned, and Christian looked outraged. But Mark was triumphant.

"So long, motherfucker," he growled, and he and Maureen paid the bill and left the café, while Christian stared at them, his face frozen with a wide-open mouth like a fish.

"Hey Pookie. Good you showed him," grinned the Drama Queen as they walked back up to the loft. "You feel better now?"

"Yeah, m_uch_ better," said Mark – who really did feel slightly better after embarrassing his former love-rat in public – while opening the door and letting them in. He walked into the house, plonked himself down on the ratty couch and propped his face onto his hand. "But that still doesn't bring me anywhere closer to where Roger is."

The Drama Queen sat on the couch next to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "Don't worry, Marky. We'll find him. Roger loves you too much to go very far away. You know that. We _all_ know that. Don't lose hope, Pookie." Mark sighed and rested his head on her shoulder. He hoped to God that she was right.

* * *

Two more weeks passed and still no sign of Roger. Mark by this time, was an absolute nervous wreck. His eyes were redder than ever, his face suddenly seemed to grow ten years older overnight, and he even started losing a little bit of hair. The remaining Bohemians tried to calm him down, but he refused to. When Collins tried to get Mark to eat some Cap'n Crunch, he darted out of the house and went to the cemetery. He knelt down before Angel's and Mimi's graves and wept.

"I can't take this anymore! I don't know where he is!" he sobbed. "I wish he'd just come back to me! I'm so sorry I hurt him! I'm so sorry I spent such little time with him! I'm sorry I made him feel so insecure and unwanted! I promise I'll never, _ever_, **ever** do it again. I'll do anything to have him back. Please send him back to me, guys. Please….send him back…..I can't stand this anymore….please…..I'm so sorry…….please. I love him _so_ much…." He just crouched at their graves, crying softly for what seemed like an eternity.

About an hour of crying later, he wiped his face clean, picked himself off the ground and trudged home. He tucked his hands deep into his pockets, suddenly feeling the cold of the evening. When he finally got home, Collins, Maureen and even Joanne were all in the loft, waiting for him to come home.

"Hey there Mark," greeted Joanne, who came by after work to see how her friend was. "I hope you're feeling a little better at least. I made you some tomato soup." He took out a clean bowl, filled it up with the warm, red soup, and placed it gently in front of Mark at the bar table. She placed a spoon next to the bowl, gently patted his back, and went to join Maureen on the battered couch.

Mark stared at the soup, then at Collins, who gave him a look that said 'You better eat that'. Sighing, he slowly picked up the spoon, and slowly raised a spoonful of soup into his mouth. He briefly closed his eyes, savouring the delicious warmth and flavour of the soup. Deciding he liked it, he drank another spoonful. And another. Until the phone suddenly rang, jostling everyone out of their silence. Maureen picked it up.

"Hello?" said the Drama Queen. Then he spoke over the receiver. "Mark? It's for you. It's the police."

Mark's eyes widened. He dropped the spoon into the bowl, and rushed over to grab the phone from Maureen. He spoke tentatively. "Umm, hello?"

The voice on the other line crackled slightly. "Good Evening, Mr. Cohen. This is Detective Robert Goren. You wouldn't still be looking for a Roger Davis, would you?"

Mark's heart skipped a beat. "Oh my God! Did you find him? Do you know where he is? Please tell me! Please!" The other three Bohemians suddenly sat upright, ears peeled for any information about their lost friend.

Detective Goren sighed heavily. "Well, this homeless lady found somebody lying in an alleyway that matches his description fairly well so we're going to go investigate. But from what she's told us, well…..it doesn't sound very pretty. It doesn't sound very pretty at all. I think you better meet us at the station immediately………"

* * *

MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Looks like we almost know where Roger is! Almost! Maybe, if I get enough reviews, I can put up the next chapter so that I can be closer to finishing this story and starting on my next one…… _-giggles-_

Oh hey, 10 points for anyone who notices my favourite Law & Order detective (next to Detective Green), whom I just slipped in. I love him to death. He's si smart, so cheeky and so charismatic. _-winks-_


	12. Cold,So Cold, Would You Light My Candle?

Mark, Collins, Maureen and Joanne were out of the door in minutes, travelling the subway to the local police station. There, they were greeted by a cocky-looking detective in his mid-thirties, wearing a grey suit, carrying a gun and a flashlight.

"Hello there, I'm Detective Goren. I called you up earlier. Which one of you is Mr. Cohen?" he asked them.

Mark stepped forward. "Umm, that's me. Please call me Mark" he said, shaking the detective's hand nervously. "Thank you _so_ much for calling me, Sir."

Detective Goren smiled grimly and nodded. "Hey, my pleasure. Now let's get going. You guys can share my car." And with that, he jumped into a police car, which was being driven by a younger police officer. The four Bohemians slid into the backseat of the car and away they went, followed by an ambulance.

When they finally reached the alleyway, Mark was the first one to jump out of the car to start searching. He dug furiously at the snow like a madman, trying to find any sign of his lover. Collins, Maureen and Joanne also helped him search, along with Detective Goren and the other cops. Finally Detective Goren shouted:

"Over here! I think I found him!"

The Bohemians rushed to the wall near which Detective Goren stood and stared at the stiff form buried under the snow. Mark got down on his hand and knees, followed by his friends, and picked off all the snow covering it, while he other officers got spades and shovelled the snow all around the area. Finally, after all the snow was removed, Mark bent over and studied the face closely.

"Roger?" He gasped when he saw how blue his skin and lips became. "Roger? Can you hear me?" There was no answer. Mark gently cradled his head and began to sob.

"Roger? It's me, Mark. Please wake up, baby. I'm here now." The filmmaker cried some more, ripped off his battered jacket and gently wrapped it over the cold, frozen form. Collins bent down and placed his hand on the neck. Mark looked at him expectantly.

"Oh thank God, he still has a pulse!" said Collins with gusto. Mark breathed a huge sigh of relief and gently kissed the cold forehead. "But it's very faint. He'll be lucky if it continues for much longer," he added grimly.

"That's good enough for now," piped Maureen. She yelled "Guys! He's still alive!" to the paramedics as they gently picked up Roger's body and placed it on the stretcher.

"Yes we know, thank you Miss," said the older paramedic. While the two of them hooked him up to a drip and placed an oxygen mask over his face, the other one asked them:

"I'm afraid we can only take one of you in the ambulance. Which one of you is closest to the patient?"

Joanne placed her arm on Mark's shoulder and said, "Let Mark go with you. He's Roger's boyfriend." Mark smiled at Joanne, tears falling down his cheeks, as he thanked her and embraced her tightly. He then proceeded to hug Collins and Maureen tightly before getting into the ambulance with Roger and the paramedics. The three Bohemians got into the police cars, along with detective Goren and the other cops, and off they sped to the hospital, the sirens from both vehicles blaring loudly into the dark of the night.

Mark clutched Roger's hand tightly, kissing his fingers. "Oh God, Roger, what's happened to you? What have I done?" He moved his hand downward to caress Roger's arm, and cried more tears when he saw the numerous track marks on his lover's forearm. Mark cringed; he knew this was his fault. Meanwhile, the paramedics were busy trying to get his normal temperature back up and monitoring his heart rate and blood pressure constantly. He kissed Roger's hand and held it close to his body. "I am _so_ sorry, Roger. I mean it. Please don't leave me baby, please. I love you so much." He bent down and kissed his cold, blue cheek. "I promise I'll never hurt you again. Just please don't die…..please…..don't leave me……I can't live without you…please……" Mark interlocked his fingers with Roger's and cried some more, hoping and praying that his lover would not slip away.

Or would he?

* * *

Oh my goodness. Now, I'm a little confused here. Should Roger live or die? _–giggles evilly like Mr. Burns-_


	13. On The Edge Of Life

Hey everybody. No, I haven't disappeared off the face of the planet or taken by Oompa Loompas to Narnia. I'm back…..with a brand new cold. Spring fever is in the air. _–blows nose-_

* * *

Mark sat beside Roger in the hospital ward as the doctors tried frantically to get his body temperature to normal and his heart rate back up. He clutched his lover's hand so tightly, gently rubbing his palm to pass of some body heat to him. Hell, it was gonna take a lot more than just _that_ to warm him up.

"Rog?" whimpered Mark as he gently traced patterns on Roger's hand, cringing at the sight of the track marks on his forearm. "Roggy? I am so sorry for everything I did to you." Roger's eyes fluttered open, but not enough to focus, his eyelids rapidly blinking up and down trying to focus on the filmmaker. "I'm sorry I never appreciated you enough. I'm sorry I gave more attention to Christian than to you. I'm sorry…….for letting him……touch me…..I am so sorry, baby. I love you so much. Please don't leave me. _Please_. I beg of you."

Roger couldn't hold his eyes open long enough and he didn't have enough strength to sit upright so he just turned his head towards Mark and tried to listen to his words. Mark pulled him close and whispered to him, "You are the light of my life, Roger. You are everything to me. You are my sun, my moon, my earth and my Heaven." His voice cracked slowly, with tears spilling down his face, as he continued speaking. "You are the only reason that I live for every day. I can't survive without you, Roger. I am _nothing_ without you. Please don't leave me. I promise I'll make it up to you. Whatever you want, just say it and I'll do it. I love you, baby." He kissed Roger's lips gently and pressed his forehead against the rock star's, crying softly. Suddenly, he was interrupted by a nurse tapping him on the shoulder.

"I'm sorry sir, but I'm gonna have to ask you to leave the room, please," he said. Mark looked up at him, hastily wiping his tears away. "Oh, yeah, sure. I will. Sorry," he mumbled, getting off his chair, giving Roger a quick kiss and whispering an 'I love you' into his ear, before exiting the room. The nurse gave him a sympathetic smile before putting an oxygen mask for Roger and turning back to the doctor for further instructions. Mark sat down on a plastic chair in the corridor next to Maureen, Collins and Joanne, who were all drinking coffee and waiting for him. Mark suddenly blinked at the fourth figure in the hallway.

"Benny?" said Mark with confusion. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Benny smiled sadly. "Well, after hearing that one of my best friends was in a critical condition, I wanted to come down and see him. I mean, I know you hate me and all but, I still care about you guys." He shoved his hands into his pockets and spoke sheepishly. "I'm sorry for being such an ass. I just wanted to be sure he was okay. Plus, I though you might need some help paying the hospital bill too." The whole gang, including Mark, broke into a quiet giggle. Mark threw his arms around Benny and hugged him tightly, crying into his blue suede jacket.

"Thank you Benny. Thank you so much for being here. I really do appreciate it," sobbed Mark.

Benny hugged him back. "Hey, my pleasure, Mark. Money may make me wealthy, but you guys make me rich." He pulled away slowly and the two of them smiled at each other through their tears. He then proceeded to hug Maureen, Joanne and Collins while Mark stared at Roger through the window glass, his heart monitor beating slowly but steadily. Suddenly it started to get slower and slower until it became one long, single beep. The nurses quickly got the equipment ready while the doctor checked his heart rate.

Mark let out something between a cry and a gasp as he watched his lover twitch and turn on the bed. "No! No no no Roger no! Oh my God!" he cried, griping onto the back of the hospital chair. Joanne put an arm around him and squeezed him.

"C'mon Mark, don't lose it, please. You need to stay strong. For Roger," she reasoned.

"Yeah. He'll make it through, don't you worry," added Maureen, wrapping her arm around him.

Mark watched the nurse yell "**CLEAR!**" as attempted at revive Roger. He then did it a second time and a third time. Roger's body bucked violently on the bed, but there was still no response. Collins hugged Mark tightly from behind.

"C'mon man, you gotta hold it together now. For Roger's sake. Hold it together," he instructed like a father to his son. Mark gripped Maureen's and Collins hands to tightly his knuckles turned white. He watched with his mouth wide open as the heart monitor got slower and slower until it became one long, monotone beep. The doctor and the nurse stared at each other, trying to figure out what to do next.

"Oh no," whimpered the filmmaker, wiping his face with his scarf. "Don't tell me he's gone. Please don't tell me he's gone……"

* * *

Oh my goodness! Is Roger's really dead? Tune in to the next chapter to find out! _–snickers-_


	14. Start Over

"No….." whispered Mark, staring at his lover through the window of the hospital room. "Please don't let it be true. Please."

Mark wrestled himself away from his friends' embrace, barged into the hospital ward, and stood beside Roger. Hot tears spilled down his face as he stared at his boyfriend's ice cold body lying on the bed, stiff and motionless. He took Roger's hand into his own and squeezed it hard.

"I am so sorry, sir. We did the best we possibly could," said the doctor, his voice thick with sympathy and regret. "But he's been lying in the snow for God knows how long. We all tried our best to help him. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." Mark ignored the doctor and focused his attention to Roger.

"Roger? Baby, are you awake?" he whimpered as he moved his face closer to Roger's and gently traced the dried tear marks on his stubbled face. "You're not really dead, are you? Huh? Can you hear me, baby?"

"Mark, you know he can't hear you," said Joanne quietly through her tears.

"Shut up! Of _course_ he can!" hissed the filmmaker. He moved closer and cradled the rock star's head gently in his arms. "You can hear me, can't you baby? Please wake up. Stop fooling around, Rog. It's not funny anymore." More tears spilled down his face as he gently shook Roger's body, trying desperately to rouse him. "Please wake up."

"Mark, c'mon man. Don't do this to yourself," Collins gently scolded while he, Maureen and Joanne and Benny tried to slowly pry him off Roger's cold form.

"No, stop it! He's alive!! _Let go of me!!_ " Mark twisted his body violently as his friends pulled him away from Roger's body. He screamed and swore at them in fury before finally crumbling to the floor in a bout of tears. The four Bohos wrapped their arms tightly around him and held him close as they all cried for their friend Roger, the Boho rock-star.

The nurse removed the oxygen mask and began to cover Roger's body with the sheet when the doctor stopped him. "Leave him there a little bit longer," whispered the doctor. "His friends will want to say goodbye too."

The nurse nodded and left everything the way it was. The two of them stood quietly on either side of the bed, their heads bowed and hands clasped in respect. Suddenly, a quiet beeping sound was heard. They slowly lifted their heads.

"What's that?" whispered Maureen, who was the first one to hear it.

"I dunno," said Benny. "That couldn't possibly be –"

"The heart monitor!" the nurse gasped, finishing his sentence. "He's still alive!!"

"Quick! Give him the oxygen mask!" said the doctor. "I'll revive him!!"

The nurse and the doctor got down to work, trying frantically to kick-start the last flame of life left in Roger's body. The five Bohemians watched in anticipation, their hearts thudding, their mouths hanging wide open, as their friend received some vital life-saving treatment.

"CLEAR!!" yelled the doctor as he placed the equipment on Roger's body. His body bucked right off the bed.

"Blood pressure is back up," said the nurse. "He's almost there."

"CLEAR!" Once more, his body jumped off the bed. This time, his chest started rising and falling ever so slightly.

"Yes!! He's breathing!!" exclaimed Joanne, her face breaking into a grin. The nurse increased the flow of oxygen, which caused Roger's chest to heave more rapidly.

Mark detangled himself from his friends' grasp, got off the floor and stood beside Roger's bed again. He picked Roger's hand and squeezed it once more. This time, his hand got a squeeze back.

"Roger?" he called his boyfriend's name eagerly. "Roger, can you hear me?"

Roger's head started rolling slowly from side to side, a low groan escaping the depths of his throat. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead and face. Mark picked up a wet cloth and began mopping his face while softly coaxing him to wake up.

"Roger? It's - it's me….."

"MMmmmaaaaaaaaa?????" was the first thing that escaped Roger's lips, but wasn't fully audible with the oxygen mask over his face. Mark gasped when he heard his boyfriend trying to call his name. And lo and behold, his olive-green eyes slowly fluttered open.

"Well, I'll be damned," mumbled Collins, who was stupefied.

The nurse gently took the oxygen mask off his face and raised the back of the bed into a sitting position so he could talk better. He took a few minutes to try and catch his breath, then turned to Mark and went:

"Hey. Missed me?"

Mark let out a loud, happy cry and threw his arms around the rock star, crying joyfully. Maureen, Joanne, Collins and Benny all breathed huge sighs of relief while the doctor and the nurse stared in disbelief.

"Are you feeling alright, Roger?" asked the doctor, slowly approaching him.

"Never been better, Doc," he replied with a grin. "I just jumped over the moon."

"I don't believe it," whispered the flabbergasted doctor. "It's a miracle." The nurse nodded.

"It certainly is," said Mark, smiling widely at his boyfriend.

"Hey Rog-man, welcome back," said Collins, giving him a huge smile and a famous, warm bear-hug.

"Thanks man. It's great to _be_ back," said Roger, smiling right back at him. Next was Maureen, who engulfed him a tight, clingy octopus-hug, her wild hair blocking his face. Then came Joanne, who gave him a more motherly hug and a gentle squeeze on his shoulder. Then next was Benny, who gave him an apologetic hug filled with relief and regret over leaving them and selling out, and a warm pat on the back. Then finally came Mark, who slid his arms around Roger's neck and buried his face into his shoulder, crying softly. Roger snaked his arms around his skinny waist and held him close, stroking his back.

Maureen, Benny, Joanne and Collins smiled at the scene before them. "I think we should leave them alone for a while," whispered the Drama Queen. The others agreed. One by one, the all filed out of the room, with the doctor and nurse in tow. Mark and Roger remained in each others' arms, holding each other tightly, not daring to let go. Mark was the first to speak.

"I though I'd lost you," he whispered into Roger's shoulder.

"I thought I'd lost you too," Roger whispered back, kissing his temple. He gently pulled away so the two could gaze into each other's eyes. Roger gently wiped the tears off Mark's face.

"I thought I'd lost you to Death," mumbled Mark, his voice shaking.

"I thought I'd lost you to Christian," replied Roger.

Mark broke into tears at the mention of that name. "I'm so sorry Roger! I should never ever _ever_ have set eyes in him! I love you, Roggy! I'm so-"

Roger cut him off. "Yes Marky, I know. You already told me when we got to the hospital, remember?" Mark blinked at him.

"Yes baby, I _did_ hear you," said Roger, smiling warmly. "And I believe you. I know you're truly sorry for what you did." He gently took Mark's face in his hands, pulled him close and smiled lovingly at him. "And I forgive you. We all make mistakes sometimes. We all do things that hurt ourselves or other people. But what's important is that we learn from our mistakes. And I've learnt how important it is to hold tightly onto what you cherish," he declared, pecking Mark's lips softly.

Mark smiled right back at him and squeezed his hand. "And I've learnt how incredibly fuckin' _lucky_ I am to have someone as amazing as you who loves me so much, and is willing to do anything for me………even forgive me, despite how much I hurt you." He quickly blinked away his tears. "I love you so much, Roger. I am nothing without you. Please remember that."

Roger smiled. "Of course I will. I love you too, with all my heart." And with that, he pulled Mark close and kissed him softly and lovingly. Mark kissed him back, with all the love and passion in his body. Their arms went around each other again. Mark raked his hands through Roger's shaggy blond hair and Roger stroked Mark's neck and shoulder blades, making the Jewish boy shiver with excitement. There was no control, no fight for dominance, no lust, and no roughness. This was a kiss of pure love, accompanied by passion, sweetness and soul. Their tongues danced together, learning the feel of each other all over again after having suffered several weeks of hurt and separation. Finally, when their oxygen supplies began to dwindle, the two lovers reluctantly pulled away and held each other tightly, gazing into each others' eyes.

"So," Mark began hesitantly. "Can we start again?"

"Of course," said Roger smiling widely.

Mark smiled back. "Wanna make me a cup of tea?"

The rock star shook his head. "No fucking way. I think I'll let _you_ do that." The lovers giggled and laughed and hugged and laughed some more, overjoyed to have found each other again. Everything they ever wanted, they already had. They needed nothing more. They had love, and that's all that mattered.

-THE END-

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And that's it!! Thank you everyone for your amazing reviews and for a being a part of this story. See you all later and God bless!! –_blows kisses and mini mud cakes-_


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